Even though it's early spring here in New Zealand, we've had some cool days lately. The fireplace in the living room is the main heat source in our house, so having firewood is important. Up to this point, very kind people have shared their wood with us and we haven't had to buy it. We had two logs left yesterday and Jared told me to call a place advertised in the paper and order some more.

The man I talked with said half a truck load is the smallest amount you can buy, I said ,"sure, that sounds great." I assumed that meant he would bring a pick-up truck and stack the wood for me wherever I wanted it... (I don't have much experience with wood burning stoves. We had one growing up, but the most I did was hand my dad logs as he neatly stacked it in the garage. I remember him poking the fire with metal tongs and crumbling newspaper, but that's about it.)

Anyway, a HUGE dump truck backed into our driveway and tilted and proceeded to dump a very large amount of wood. Then I paid him and he sped away. I wasn't sure what to do next.

Previously I was hoping to grab a nap before Cohen woke up. Since it had been raining off and on all day I figured that wood needed to get in our garage under cover quickly. Of course Jared wasn't home from work until 8 pm so I did what any good woman would do, I took a nap... just kidding:) After chuckling to myself and staring at the wood for a minute, I realized I better get stacking. Now I do remember my dad wearing work gloves as he stacked wood. I started looking around to see if the furnished house where we live had any. The only thing I could find was one latex glove. It didn't seem like that would help much but I figured that was better than nothing.

An hour, a couple of splinters, and wood dust in the eyes later, you can see what I accomplished. I was proud and as I was putting the last logs in, it started to rain.